


The Price of Freedom

by Servena



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Battle, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 18:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: Nasir struggled back onto his feet, holding onto a pillar for support. [Set during the beginning of Season 3.]





	The Price of Freedom

Nasir struggled back onto his feet, holding onto a pillar for support. His head was pounding from the blow he had suffered and the ground beneath his feet was spinning. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Around him the battle raged on, but he had lost his sword as he was felled and didn’t yet have a clear enough mind to look for it. Instead he watched through a haze as, only a few meters away, Spartacus killed two men with a single swing of his sword. The gladiators moved like the trained killing machines they were, spilling blood with every blow while they themselves had received only scratches and grazes so far. They were forcing the roman soldiers back, who, though skilled in their own rights, couldn’t match that brutal strength.

And neither could Nasir. He was just a body slave after all, and a few days of training with sword and shield didn’t make him a gladiator. And he knew that some of the gladiators felt the same.

“Watch out!” someone called out to him. The voice sounded familiar, but before he could even think about it a movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention.

A roman soldier had spotted his vulnerable position, moving in for the kill with his sword raised. Nasir had nothing left to defend himself with, and though everything inside him screamed to get out of the way his body didn’t yet obey him.

So this is how it’s going to be, he thought dimly. He had gotten nothing but a short taste of freedom. He wasn’t sure if it had been worth it.

Then the roman soldier was suddenly stopped in his movement, eyes going wide as blood shot out of his mouth. The tip of a bloody sword broke through his chest from behind and the soldier sank to the ground without a sound.

Behind him stood the German, Nasir dimly remembered that his name was Agron. He looked angry. “ _Never_ let go of your sword” he said sharply as he pulled his own free of the dead body.

“I lost it when I fell”, Nasir mumbled. Now that his death was no longer quite as imminent, the pain in his head made a forceful return and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

The expression on Agron’s face softened. “You’re bleeding”, he said, touching the back of his head where he had been struck. Nasir winced at the touch.

“Come on, lean on me”, Agron said and extended a hand.

Nasir hesitated, but there really was no other way if he didn’t want to stay where he was, and he very much did not. He let go of the pillar to throw an arm around Agron’s broad shoulders, who bore the additional weight with no sign that he felt it at all. Behind them, the battle dwindled down as the last roman soldiers were put to the sword.

“Thought you didn’t like me”, he mumbled as Agron helped him to take the first unsteady steps. He had noticed Agron’s disapproving looks from the moment Spartacus’ men had taken the villa of his master.

But to his surprise, Agron cast a look at him and said: “Why would you think that?” And indeed, this time the expression on his face was different, more open. And then he smiled and Nasir was lost. He spent the whole agonizingly slow walk back to camp chewing on the question whether their brief exchange meant anything, the pain in his head almost forgotten.


End file.
